Going to the doctor’s office is something that I have always dreaded, being an overweight girl. My clothes always felt extra-tight on those days, and I wanted to suck in my stomach to look smaller, even though I knew the scale would rat me out. I grew up hearing the word "obesity" over and over, and my weight finally got to me my sophomore year in high school.

I remember that doctor visit the most. I stepped on the scale to reveal the number 230. I was so disappointed in myself. I knew my eating habits were terrible and that I had stretch marks that began in middle school, but I thought being on the soccer team was enough to keep me healthy. Who could blame a girl whose favorite meal was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, potato chips and a big glass of Mountain Dew on the side? I knew it was time for a change, though.

That was my sophomore year. By my senior year I had taken control. I packed my lunches for school. I started working out with friends, even after soccer practices. My main factor was making myself run every day. And I mean every day. Even throughout the cold winter and the humid Michigan summer, I worked myself down to 180 pounds of happiness. My motto for myself was, "Get healthy, not skinny." I'm not trying to discriminate being skinny, but I wanted my focus on my health and not the size of my body.

I am not trying to define anyone else’s way of life, just my own. I don’t deprive myself of food. I don’t hate myself too much for having cake at a birthday party. I was just at a point in my life where I wanted my health to come first. I wanted to prove to myself I could do it. I wasn’t calorie counting or being restrictive; I just finally took the advice that everyone seemed to have: eat better and exercise more.

However, I am human, and I slipped up in college. Fast food and drinking became a part of my life, and I loved it. I missed greasy food, and I loved how Coke tasted with Captain Morgan. Eating on campus seemed easier than making my own food, and all the walking on campus I was doing seemed enough that I stopped running all together.

As of now, after my current doctor’s appointment, I am now at 208 pounds, but I’m not upset about it. I’m actually quite relieved. I told myself that I didn’t want to be over 200 again. I told myself that I would get lower than 180, but that was because my focus was changing. I started comparing myself to others and started wanting to be smaller in the waste, hips and arms. I was idolizing a size, and it was becoming unhealthy for my mind.

So, I’m starting over.

Yes, I haven’t made the best choices, but I am ready to try again. Life gets in your way, and you need to push through it to get to where you want to be. I am choosing to make time for myself so I can feel myself. I want my weight to be one less worry on my mind.

I’m currently doing Zumba twice a week while working out with a friend another two days on top of that. It isn’t my doctor’s suggested five days a week, but four is what I can handle on top of a summer class, work and a social life, and that's all I want. I've donwloaded MyFitnessPal to begin tracking what I eat. I want to be more conscious of my choices and my lifestyle. I'm planning on going on more hikes and being outside more. It will be a slow progression, but one I am looking forward to.

I am making peace with myself about not having what media calls the “perfect body.” I enjoy my curves and flaws and my ice cream too. If you had told 180-pound me that someday I would be back over 200, I probably would have cried. I would have been angry about losing the progress I had made. Looking back at 180 me, yeah, I was smiling a bit more and fitting into clothes a bit better, but that was because I was making a healthier me, not a skinnier me. That’s what I am still trying to do, and I don’t plan on giving up this time.